


aurora second hand book store

by adda8746



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Attempt at Humor, Domestic, Fluff, Found Family, I try, M/M, Magical Realism, Shy Kang Yeosang, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, anyways we'll see where this goes, can you tell im adding tags as i go, featuring: yeosangs asshole dad, gross overuse of italics, i'll try to make it slow lmao, kinda i guess, slowburn at the speed of glacier movement, that's basically the summary of the entire thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:41:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26923039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adda8746/pseuds/adda8746
Summary: life is like a box of chocolates and yeosang has just been handed a ball of 100% raw cacao.at least that's what he thinks as he's staring down the tiniest bookstore in existence, suitcase in one hand and 'roommate wanted' ad in the other.
Relationships: Choi San/Kang Yeosang, Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 85
Kudos: 133





	1. green is a creative colour

**Author's Note:**

> i love sansang and magical realism aus so here we are. this is also my way of coping with the fact that there's literally only like 9 pages of sansang stories on here.

Yeosang thinks that sometimes, life is just like a box of chocolates. You can bite into one, and it'd be sweet and taste like caramel. Then, tricked by the savoury chocolate you just had, you bite into another. The moment you taste this chocolate however, it’s like all hell has been unleashed in your mouth. You end up crying and desperately trying to throw up whatever form of the _devil’s anus_ you’ve just consumed.

Staring down the door of a tiny second-hand bookstore that is now his apartment, Yeosang thinks it’s safe to say he’s just been fed the devil’s anus of chocolates.

Okay, there’s a perfectly normal reason why Yeosang is now going to be sharing a shoebox with _seven_ other people.

In short, Yeosang’s dad is an asshole. No, _scratch_ _that_ , he isn’t an asshole, that’s too nice for people like him. He’s like Cruella De Vil from 101 Dalmations. Yeah, that sounds about right. He may not have tried to skin Yeosang alive and wear him as a coat, but he _did_ kick him out. For having magic. The _one_ thing Yeosang can’t control about himself, and his stupid dad kicks him out for it.

You see, people with magic (or magicks, if you wanna get fancy) aren’t necessarily uncommon _per se_ , but they are few enough that there’s a bias against them.

What was that phrase again?

 _‘People are afraid of the things they don’t understand’_.

That basically sums it up. It’s not that bad in Korea, magic is still allowed to be performed in homes and in designated places, blah blah blah.

Despite all of the laws claiming all magicks are to be treated equally, people can’t help being dumb. They don’t understand, so their first reaction is fear. That’s what happened with Yeosang’s dad anyway.

And to think, Yeosang even got that man a father's day present. Well, guess who _isn’t_ getting a coffee mug that says ‘world’s best dad’ on it.

To be fair, Yeosang’s magic isn’t even that big of a deal. So what if he can freeze shit? Yeah, maybe he accidentally got a tad excited and froze half the entire house, but that was a one time thing. He normally had it under control, that was just a slip up. But no, despite Yeosang _trying_ to tell his dad all of this, his dad didn’t _fucking_ listen. It was all ‘you’re a disappointment' this and ‘I can’t believe I raised an alien’ that, not even a ‘wow son you’re just like Elsa’.

That’s how Yeosang finds himself standing in front of the musty used bookstore, holding a dirty ‘Roommate Wanted!’ ad. He’d been wandering the streets of Seoul for about three days before this. Actually, he’d been sleeping on the streets before this, damn his dad for cancelling his credit card.

One afternoon, when he’d just left from a failed job interview (homeless teen doesn’t really sell on a resume, you know?), he spotted a flyer on a nearby telephone pole. It was pretty hard to miss, considering the fact that it was neon pink. The ad had read:

_‘Roommate wanted! Rent is negotiable (you can pay it off through work). We have a small single room, completed with a bed and dresser. We have our own kitchen, but only two bathrooms so you’ll need to share. You’d be living with seven other people (all magicks) and are expected to do chores. Come in at any time for an interview! The apartment is also located above a bookstore, if that changes your mind ;)’_

The rent part was what first caught Yeosang’s eye, but what really sold it for him was the fact that there were seven other magicks. He’d been curious about these other magicks, he’d never met anybody like him before. _What were they like? What abilities did they have? Did this mean he could freely use magic there?_ He was nervous, yeah, _what if they didn’t think his ability was cool enough-_

But Yeosang was also hopelessly broke, so he ripped the flyer off the pole and typed the address into his phone.

Now, balancing his barely-held-together backpack in one hand and the suitcase in the other, he can see why the rent is considered negotiable. The bookstore is a small old thing, crammed between a homey bakery and a hole in the wall noodle restaurant. At least it smells good, Yeosang thinks. The outside is painted a dark forest green, contrasting the cream colouring of the store name _‘Aurora Books’_. The display window takes up more than half of the store front and is stuffed to the brim with books. It’s _quaint_. At least that’s what Yeosang tells himself as he walks up the steps, suitcase in tow.

The moment he pushes open the door, he’s hit by a wave of what can only be described as warmth. Not warmth from a heater, no, but from _magic_. He pauses at the door frame, trying to take a minute to fully absorb the magic. The mere glimpses of magic he’s felt on the street were _nothing_ compared to this.

The shop looks just like Yeosang expects it to, filled to the seams with books, books, and more _books_. The entire right wall is piled with books, mostly books on magic (which makes sense, the entire store is _run_ by magicks). The rest of the store is crammed with dark bookshelves, with only a space cleared out in the back for couches (green, of course, to match with the aesthetic). There’s also a fancy mahogany counter nestled to the left corner of the store, and green ( _again_ ) carpeted stairs that lead up to what Yeosang can only assume are his new living quarters.

He hears footsteps coming from the second floor, a loud _‘there’s a customer!’_ and then a whisper shout of _‘Wooyoung, you’re not going, I don’t trust you. I’ll go’._

Yeosang- with his two _whole_ brain cells, wholly believes he is about to come face-to-face with a forty-seven year old man. What he does not expect to see is a boy around his age with blue hair, wearing the biggest hoodie Yeosang has ever seen, to come dashing down the stairs.

“Hello! What can I do-” his sentence trails off when he takes note of the flyer in Yeosang’s hand, “ah! You’re here because of the ad right?” He claps his hands together and gives Yeosang a wide smile. Yeosang can feel wisps of sea magic coming off of him, like a splash of mist from a wave crashing against shore.

“...Yes,” Yeosang reluctantly says, trying to internally convince himself that this is worth it because _he’ll get to meet other magicks and not freeze (ha, funny) to death outside (he’s being dramatic, it’s like May)._

Distantly, he can hear someone scream ‘WE’RE GETTING A NEW ROOMMATE’ upstairs, followed by a loud bang. Yeosang gulps. 

“I’m Hongjoong, the co-owner of the store. You can just put your bags down here and we can go upstairs for the interview, is that fine?” His voice is cheery, and Yeosang can’t help but be affected by the happy mood. He nods, before unceremoniously dumping his luggage on the ground. He isn’t concerned with it being stolen, who’s gonna steal his thrift store clothes anyway?

“Great! Follow me then,” Hongjoong says and with a flick of his wrist, the front door locks. Yeosang would be lying if he said he didn’t flinch. He’s never seen magic used so… carelessly.

Back at home, the only way Yeosang could use his magic was through discreetly turning the temperature down in his room. Again, _fuck_ his dad.

“Coming?” Hongjoong calls out, he’s already halfway up the stairs, brows furrowed in confusion. Yeosang snaps himself out of his thoughts and moves to trail after him. He squeezes past the counter, careful not to trip over any scattered books lying on the floor _(is that a Moby Dick next to a John Green?)_. The stairs creak and groan as he climbs them, threatening to give way if he so much as leans the wrong way. The door at the top of the stairs is open when he gets there, and he can see that Hongjoong is already in the cramped kitchen on the right, boiling a kettle of tea. He is a _little_ disappointed to see Hongjoong making tea the normal way, not with magic.

However, his disappointment is mended when he steps into the apartment and is hit with another wave of magic. This one is a lot more intense, and the magic seems to be bouncing off the walls. He can feel as the magic settles deep in his bones, calming nerves he didn’t know he had. If Hongjoong notices that Yeosang pauses for too long at the doorway, he doesn’t comment on it.

The kitchen space looks modest enough, but with the sheer _mess_ of everything, it barely looks able to fit more than three people. There’s pots and pans hanging from the walls, dozens of pictures stuck onto the fridge, and random sticky notes on _every_ _cabinet_ _door_. It looks _homey._ Yeosang repeats that like a mantra in his head instead of running back down the stairs before it's too late.

“Come sit at one of the stools. We’ll discuss everything here,” Hongjoong gestures at one of their green stools from behind the counter. Yeosang does, and he’s surprised to find that it’s actually comfortable. The breakfast bar only has three stools, and the counter of it is also mahogany, just like the one downstairs. They settle into a semi comfortable silence, with Hongjoong calmly preparing the tea and Yeosang fidgeting in his seat.

“Where is everyone else?” He blurts out, he’d expected to be assaulted by noise the moment he stepped into the apartment, but it hasn’t happened yet. In fact, it’s eerily quiet for an apartment with seven people living inside (well, now it’s eight).

“Oh, you mean the others? I sent them to their rooms for now, they can be pretty overwhelming if you meet them all at once. You’ll meet them at dinner anyway. Seonghwa and Jongho are out though. Seonghwa’s getting groceries for dinner and Jongho has class,” Hongjoong says, pouring the tea into two mugs as he does so. “So, trash pickup is at 7 am every Tuesday, and we normally switch between different chores each week, the rotations are posted on the fridge. Your room will be upstairs and I’ve already texted the others not to come out of their rooms until dinner. I’ll probably get Seonghwa to give you a tour after dinner, when you’ve settled in.” Hongjoong flits this way and that as he speaks, placing the mugs of tea in front of Yeosang before turning away to do whatever he’s trying to do. Yeosang hasn’t even gotten through the first sentence before Hongjoong somehow reemerges from behind him, holding a pen and a contract and his own mug of tea, looking expectantly at him.

“Wait-” Yeosang says lamely, holding up a weak hand as he tries to wrap his head around everything Hongjoong just said.

“That’s… it? What about the interview? What about getting to know me? What if I’m a serial killer? You don’t even know my name, I’m Yeosang.” Hongjoong laughs at the last part, before setting down the things at the counter and taking a seat next to Yeosang.

“First of all, _Yeosang-ssi_ , I’m sure you’re not a serial killer, you’re too cute to be one,” Yeosang flushes at the words, “and also, the interview’s already done. As you should know, we all know magic here. I can sometimes use my magic to read auras, so I already know you’re a good person. There’s really no need for the questions. We’ll get to know you soon enough,” he ends his words with a bright smile, and Yeosang can only give a weak nod in return. He picks up the pen and starts looking (read: skimming) through the contract.

“Wait- wait, I can’t pay rent. I… I don’t have money. How can I work it off?” He asks when he gets to the part where it says rent is due at the first of every month.“You know how I co-own the store downstairs? Well, we actually need someone to work on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays because most of us are busy on those days. So, if you can’t pay rent, that’d work too. I’d just dock it off your pay, does that work?” Yeosang nods, he doesn’t have anything else to do anyway. He flips through the rest of the contract (mostly boring law things, but there _was_ one line stating that any shapeshifting magic users were not allowed to go into private chambers).

They talk a bit after, but it’s relatively quiet. They mostly just sit there, finishing off their tea. Yeosang likes Hongjoong, he doesn’t push Yeosang to talk and doesn’t ask him too many questions. He knows he’ll probably have to deal with a lot of noise at dinner (if the previous sounds he heard were anything to go by), but for now, he just relishes in the silence they’ve made.

A few minutes later, when they’ve both finished their tea, Hongjoong breaks the silence. “I’m gonna call Seonghwa to tell him to buy more food for tonight, since we’ve got a new roommate. Ah, I should also tell Jongho to take down the flyers. Go explore a bit and then you can go to your room to get settled, it’s the last door to the left. I’ll send your bags up there.” He makes a shooing motion with his hands and stands, grabbing their mugs in the process. Yeosang mutters a thank you and stands too.

Normally, he’d be too polite to let anybody carry his bags, but he knows Hongjoong will most likely just use magic to teleport them upstairs or something. While Hongjoong is busy calling Seonghwa and Jongho (whoever they are), Yeosang takes some time to look through the apartment.

The first floor isn’t much, there’s a living room to the left of the entrance. It’s small, but looks like it might just be able to fit in seven (eight now) people. The couch is green, of course, but Yeosang didn’t expect anything less from them. The sole windows are in the living room, two side by side windows with a sheer white curtain on them. It’s cute, Yeosang thinks.

Hongjoong had told him that there were only two bedrooms on this floor, the master bedroom and a single room. Yeosang asked who was living in the master bedroom together, and Hongjoong only blushed and spluttered a bit before moving on. The second floor had three rooms, and the smallest of the three was the one Yeosang was going to be living in. When he’d asked why there were only five bedrooms, Hongjoong told him that they all had roommates. Apparently, Yeosang’s room was too small for Wooyoung’s wardrobe and a tad too short for Yunho and Mingi’s liking, so it stayed empty. Until now.

The upstairs is a lot less cluttered than the first floor, just a carpeted hallway with three doors. He can hear yelling and a distinct scream of ‘UNO’ coming from the first door, so he assumes that’s where the banished roommates are residing. He hurries past the first two doors and goes inside the last one.

The first thing he notices is that his suitcase and duffel bag are already there, and that’s only _slightly_ creepy. The second thing he notices is that… the room is _really_ fucking tiny.

Hongjoong wasn’t kidding when he said the room was made only for one person. The bed is (thankfully) a double bed , but it is also sideways and somehow touching three walls at once. The dresser looks like it was bought at an antique auction, with it’s fading colours and rusty knobs. There’s only one window, smack dab in the middle of the back wall, and it’s filtering through enough natural light for Yeosang not to open the dusty lamp on the dresser (that’s the only source of light).

Yeosang’s dad ( _ugh_ ) wasn’t filthy rich, but he certainly wasn’t poor either. They were well off enough for Yeosang to have his own bathroom.

He’s gonna miss not having to fight for a bathroom.

When Yeosang is done unpacking and praying to god that he’ll survive through this night, someone knocks at his door. “Yeosang? You can come down now! Dinner’s ready!” it’s Hongjoong. With one last prayer that he’ll survive through _dinner_ , Yeosang gets up and opens the door.


	2. in which yeosang lives his best elsa life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> head empty no thoughts just yeosang performing utopia in ateez 2nd anniversary 
> 
> if you want to know what i listen to while writing this, it's normally lofi playlists, especially those soft ones that remind you of the morning sunlight on a lazy sunday (idk if that made any sense but like you get what i mean)

Dinner goes fine.

Okay, ‘ _fine_ ’ might be a bit of an overstatement. Actually, ‘distrasously terrible’ might be the better word for it.

So, it all starts when Yeosang goes downstairs, because you know, god fucking _hates_ Yeosang.

It actually starts out normal enough.

Hongjoong’s still in the oversized hoodie when he answers the door, but he also has a glittery party hat on his head. “It’s a celebration!” is the reply Yeosang gets when he asks about the sparkly monstrosity on Hongjoongs head.

They reach the stairs, and that’s when things start going downhill. “After you,” Hongjoong has a mischievous glint in his eyes, gesturing to the stairs like Yeosang is Cinderella about to descend the stairs to the ball. He doesn’t trust that glint, that’s the glint his middle school friends got before handing him a shaken Pepsi. But, this _is_ also Hongjoong, whom he met literally two hours ago. Yeosang doesn't really think their relationship is strong enough yet for him to be spraying Yeosang’s face with Pepsi.

He takes a tentative step down the stairs, and then another, and then another, until he’s halfway down the stairs. The lights are off, he realizes.

Three things happen within the next six seconds. One, the lights in the originally dark living room are turned on, revealing balloons and streamers and one very questionable _‘it’s a boy!’_ banner. Two, six people (strangers, for Yeosang) scream ‘welcome to your new home’ at the same time. Has he mentioned they’re also wearing party hats? Because _yes_ , yes they are. Three, Yeosang’s seven new roommates learn something new about him.

To make it even more clear, Yeosang _screams_ and then proceeds to freeze the living room.

Which is just great! Spectacular! Life is fantastic! Yeosang wants to die right now, preferably through running to the nearest window and just fucking gunning it.

If you think that isn’t bad, let’s just paint a picture of what’s going on. Everything in the living room is covered in a thick layer of frost, there’s condensation stuck to the windows, and almost all of Yeosang’s new roommates have their feet stuck to the ground. Everybody's breaths are coming out in forms of white puffs, and nobody has uttered a word. They’re frozen _(ha, literally and metaphorically)_ in place, likely planning the best way to evict Yeosang.

That’s what’s gonna happen, right? Yeosang’s gonna get kicked out of his _new_ apartment he just moved into two hours ago. This is just like with his fucking _dad_ again. He’s gonna get evicted onto the streets and then he’ll have to go back to the dumpster he was sleeping next to (although the cats in the alley _were_ pretty nice to him). Oh god, will the homeless man the next block over even share his bread with Yeosang anymore? Jim probably hates Yeosang’s guts for abandoning him.

Hongjoong is behind him, and he looks like he’s about to speak up but before he can open his mouth, Yeosang beats him to it. “I-I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t mean to b-but you guys just scared me a lot. Well, it’s not your fault I should’ve told you about my magic, oh my god I’m so sorry. I normally have control over it. If you want, you can use your magic on me to retaliate… I don’t know how else- please don’t evict me,” his voice is small when he ends his sentence, barely above a whisper. He doesn’t know where to put his hands, so he settles on moving them around like he’s trying to put out an imaginary fire, which _really_ helps with his image. Yeosang isn’t sure he’s ever spoken so much before in his entire _life_ , but today’s just a day of experiencing new things for him.

No one says anything for a few moments after his ramble, and the temperature in the room starts dropping. He’s about to start speaking again when Hongjoong comes from behind him and takes his hand. “You don’t need to apologize, Yeosang,” Hongjoong’s voice is soft, “we won’t blame you for losing control of your magic, okay? It was an accident and it wasn’t your fault. We won’t kick you out for not being able to control something as unstable as magic, okay? And _we’re_ the ones who should be sorry. Right, guys?” He turns to face the others, and Yeosang can see out of the corner of his eye how all of them give enthusiastic nods. The room gets a little warmer.

“You know what? Now’s a better time than any to introduce yourselves, none of you can run away.” Hongjoong laughs at his own joke, Yeosang cringes (god, he’s going to have to get used to all these _dad_ jokes).

“I’m Seonghwa, and I would just like to say that one, none of us blame you for this happening. And two, this party was not my idea,” Seonghwa side eyes the two people next to him. Seonghwa is in an oversized hoodie as well, and Yeosang thinks Hongjoong and him are actually wearing a couple outfit. They’re both wearing grey hoodies, but there’s a small half heart embroidered on the chest for both of them. It’s cute, and it also solves the mystery of the master bedroom.

After he introduces himself, Seonghwa jumps a few times to free his feet. “I’ll be in the kitchen getting dinner ready,” he gives one final smile to Yeosang before disappearing into the kitchen (not really, Yeosang can still see him from the staircase).

“I’m San, and the party was my and Wooyoung’s idea… I’m sorry! I didn’t know this would happen, although I really should’ve known scaring your new roommate is not the _best_ ‘welcome’ party.” San rubs at his neck, giving a sheepish smile. Before the person next to him (presumably Wooyoung) can say anything, Yeosang holds up a hand.

“Wait… whose idea was it to get the _‘it’s a boy’_ banner?” He asks, because really, who thought it would be a good idea to get a baby shower banner to welcome a new roommate?

“Uh… That was Yunho and I. We only had about 10 minutes to prepare for the surprise party, so we kind of panicked. I’m Mingi, by the way,” Mingi gives a shy wave.

“And I’m Yunho! Wooyoung is also the one next to San, since he didn’t get to introduce himself,” Yunho is bright, completely indifferent to the fact that his feet are stuck in a layer of ice. “I’m Jongho,” is the only thing Jongho says, looking like he’s very tired of everything that’s going on. Yeosang would probably be too if he just came home from a two hour lecture only to be frozen by a complete stranger.

“Sorry about the party,” Wooyoung says, “Yunho, can you fix this please?” He turns to Yunho, gesturing at the ice on his feet. Yunho nods, and then there’s a sudden blanket of warmth that settles over the room. This one feels like hot chocolate on a cold, snowy night. Like wrapping up in a fuzzy blanket after a long day. “Show off,” he hears San mutter.

“Sun magic,” Hongjoong stage whispers to him, and grins at the look of pure awe Yeosang has on his face. “Can any of you help me? I appreciate the shameless bragging but I’m also trying to bring out food for eight people,” the way Seonghwa says ‘eight people’ so easily makes something bloom in Yeosang’s chest.

Yunho says ‘hey!’ but goes to the kitchen nonetheless, Mingi and Jongho following close. Wooyoung and San go to set the table (well, the breakfast bar and the coffee table). Hongjoong drags him over to the kitchen and tells him to get some chopsticks.

They move past the incident without fanfare and nobody brings it up or makes fun of him. Yeosang thinks that maybe moving in here wasn’t the _worst_ thing he’s ever done.

///

The actual dinner part of the evening is… _chaotic_ , to say the least.

They have kimbap and stir fry and Wooyoung tosses noodles at Mingi from across the coffee table. Mingi retaliates by making Wooyoung think his noodles have turned into worms (that’s a _new_ type of magic), and stops only when Hongjoong threatens to lock up his nacho chips.

They’re all gathered around the coffee table, with Yeosang sitting in the middle of the couch (‘because you’re pretty’ was the response he got when he asked why, he’s decided not to question anything anymore).

Wooyoung, Yunho, and Jongho are sitting on the ground, each holding their own bowl of noodles (without worms). They mostly talk about their day, and San asks Jongho how his lecture went. “The class was okay, I guess. It was just really boring and I have like two essays to do,” he shrugs. Yeosang’s starting to think that maybe Jongho just doesn’t like talking a lot in general.

“So… Yeosang, I’ll take you down to the store before my shift to show you the ropes, and if you have any questions, you can ask Yunho and Mingi. I think they’re both home tomorrow, right?” Hongjoong looks between them when he asks, and they both nod. Yeosang also nods, and goes back to munching on his kimbap.

They ask him some questions throughout dinner, mostly arbitrary things like what his favourite snack is (‘ _homerun ball_ ’), what his hobbies are (‘ _skateboarding. But I don’t have a skateboard right now_ ’), and what his favourite book is (‘ _The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck_ ’).

It isn’t awkward at all, which is a surprise. They’ve added him into their dynamic seamlessly, although he’s only moved in a few hours ago. He feels as if he’s known them for years, and not have just met them today. He even gets in on some inside jokes _(Wooyoung isn’t allowed in the kitchen after accidentally setting it on fire, twice)_.

There's a silence that overtakes them for a while, until Wooyoung gets this _glint_ in his eyes again (Yeosang has learned to _fear_ it). 

“Now that Yeosang has joined our little family, I think we should add a no-sex policy in the apartment, right _Hongjoong and Seonghwa?_ ” Wooyoung narrows his eyes at the pair in question, and they both blush in response. Seonghwa sputters a bit before settling on burying his face in his hands. The rest of them cackle at their reactions (even Yeosang smiles).

“You don’t know the physical pain I go through every time I have to hear ‘ _Oh Seonghwa harder-_ ” Wooyoung is cut off by (a _very_ red) Hongjoong hurling a piece of kimbap at his face.

Jongho is cracking up from his spot, San falls onto the floor and has to hold onto Yunho for support, and Mingi is clapping his hands and giggling.

“ _Ya_! Keep this up and see if I’m bailing any of you out of jail the next time you guys decide to get wasted at three in the morning and use your magic illegally in the streets,” Seonghwa yells, and everybody goes silent, but they all look like they’re having trouble hiding their laughter. In the end, it’s _Yeosang_ who breaks.

It’s partially because of Seonghwa’s outburst, but mostly because he’s _happy_. This group of crazy magicks, whom he met hours ago, have taken him in without question and are just accepting him as one of them.

It’s absolutely unreal.

The happiness has been building up from the moment he tried Hongjoong’s tea and it’s finally getting too hard to contain.

Yeosang laughs and laughs and _laughs_.

The others join him the moment he breaks, and they all start laughing, even Seonghwa and Hongjoong join in. Yeosang doesn’t think he’s been this carefree in his _life_ , but then again, today’s been a day of new experiences for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you tell the last part was inspired by that one video of yeosang giggling and everybody just starts LAUGHING because yeosang giggling is the best thing in the world???? and i'm sorry if this one is a little short, but i wanted the next chapter to have pure soft vibes so i had to cut it off. also i do apologize if this does not have a lot of Vibes, I needed to get the intros out of the way!!! anyways stay safe, loves!!!


	3. my love, my moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> afjkvneorvrioj i wanted to get this chapter out on the boys 2nd anniversary but i just wasn't satisfied with it. i still aren't but that's life :D. also i hope this chapter conjures up memories of a lazy and warm morning!

The next morning, Yeosang wakes up at 7 am.

The sunrise filters through the window, casting a hazy orange glow over his white bed sheets. His room is warm, a stark contrast to the cold and wet alleyway that greeted him yesterday morning. Yeosang lets the warmth soak up his body, allowing memories of rain soaking his clothes and mice chewing at his jeans to wash away. His room only seems to get warmer as he lies in the comfortable sheets, content to roll around like a cat waking from a nap. The whole thing feels like a surreal dream, one that Yeosang doesn’t want to wake up from. There’s music playing somewhere in the apartment ( _his apartment now too_ ), he realizes. It’s soft, only the mellow tunes of jazz to be heard from his room. He can’t quite make out the lyrics, but he does hear the words ‘my love’ and ‘moon’.

He hums the melody quietly as he gets dressed. It feels like an oversized sweater and shorts day.

When he’s done, he leaves his room and gently pads down the hallway, swaying to the tune. The music gets a little louder when he reaches the stairs, and he can hear someone singing to the lyrics. He descends the stairs slowly, cherishing the soft moment.

“Oh, Yeosang, good morning,” Seonghwa is on the couch, a mug of tea in his hand (all memories of yesterday’s teasing are forgotten). The music is coming from an old record player Seonghwa has brought out, and by the looks of it, it’s well loved. Yeosang smiles in greeting and moves to go into the kitchen, getting out two pieces of bread and putting it into the toaster.

“Why the music?” He asks, moving to sit at the breakfast bar.

Seonghwa pauses for a moment, considering the question. “Hongjoong doesn’t like mornings. I put on his favourite music every morning so he can at least listen to it while getting ready for work.” There’s a fond look in his eyes as he speaks, and Yeosang can tell they care deeply for each other. He doesn’t reply, he doesn’t think he needs to.

He goes to fetch his toast when it’s done, and Seonghwa goes back to sipping his tea. They settle into a comfortable silence, both savouring the morning glow.

A few minutes later, a grouchy looking Hongjoong comes out of the master bedroom. He’s in an oversized shirt (which Yeosang suspects to be Seonghwa’s, if the amused look on his face is anything to go by) and boxers, and yesterday’s smile has been replaced by the hints of a frown.

“G’morning. M’ tired,” Hongjoong yawns as he goes to sit on the couch, laying his head on Seonghwa’s shoulder. Seonghwa mutters a ‘good morning’ back and kisses the top of Hongjoong’s head. They’re cute together, Yeosang thinks, even if watching them makes him feel impeccably single. “Yeosang, my shift is at eleven… just give me a few minutes to wake up and then we can go downstairs. The store doesn’t open until ten so we’ve got plenty o’ time,” Hongjoong lazily stretches his arms above his head, letting another yawn escape.

 _“My love, my moon, come dance under the stars with me,”_ Seonghwa croons to the music, setting down his mug and taking Hongjoong’s hand. Seonghwa stands, forcing Hongjoong to stand too, and starts twirling him around. Hongjoong whines, but still sways himself to the beat. The more Hongjoong loses himself to the music, the more Yeosang can feel the rippling of tides, the crash of waves on the shore, and the sound of the ocean. He gets a glimpse of Seonghwa’s magic as well. His magic is different from Yeosang’s and Hongjoong’s. His magic is like a red string of fate that connects them together, letting Yeosang feel the simple _contentment_ radiating off of Hongjoong. It’s _fascinating_.

“Come on Yeosang, don’t just sit there,” Hongjoong dances his way to Yeosang, and grabs his hands to pull him up despite the _many_ protests (Yeosang is content with just sitting back and observing). He whirls Yeosang around and Yeosang allows himself to be twirled this way and that, letting himself loose.

In the gentle caress of the sunlight, the three of them move to the tunes of a soft love song.

///

When Hongjoong has made his coffee (he refused to step foot downstairs without it) and changed into something that isn’t Seonghwa’s, he leads Yeosang downstairs. The training doesn’t take long. Hongjoong shows him how to work the register and how to know where different books belong. It’s normal, save for the strange facts and warning he adds in every now and then:

_“So magic books are placed in alphabetical order on the right wall. Your shift ends at six, and if you see a black cat outside, do not let him in. He’s an absolute bitch.”_

_“If you see books falling off the shelves, just ignore it. But if you see an open book on the floor, grab it and put it behind the counter. Wooyoung will pick it up.”_

_“If you’re using magic after one pm, do me a favour and take the trash out as well because I’d probably be too tired for that when I get home.”_

_“Sometimes you might see a toad or random flowers on the bookshelves. That’s just Mingi, his magic is hard to control.”_

The training ends before ten, but Hongjoong says he needs to get to his shift early to help set up the machines. “The cafe gets so busy during the lunch rush, I can’t even tell you how many pumpkin spice lattes I’ve had to make.” Hongjoong gets this look on his face that Yeosang can now confidently say is his ‘I’m So Fucking Tired of This’ face (he’s seen it three times in the past hour whenever Hongjoong mentions his job).

“Anyways, there’s a piano keyboard behind the register if you ever get bored. ” With that, Hongjoong leaves, letting the little bell on the door chime on his way out.

And, Yeosang’s alone.

‘Aurora Books’ isn’t exactly a _booming_ establishment, so that basically leaves Yeosang to stew in an empty bookstore by himself. For the first hour, he walks around the store trying to find any books to sort away, but ends up getting distracted by a copy of _‘Two Magicks, One Soul_ ’ (which is essentially just ‘Romeo and Juliet’ but with magic).

He walks back to the comfy leather chair behind the counter, and settles in for a good (cheesy) read.

Yunho comes down at around twelve o’clock to bring him some tea (and gummy bears on a fancy plate, _‘because everyone deserves a gummy bear’_ ). He's dressed in a yellow hoodie and sweatpants that Yeosang knows are not his because they’re too short on him (he thinks sharing clothes is also a Roommate Thing™).

"Hey Yunho," Yeosang takes a sip of the tea, "how are you so good at using your magic?" The tea is a perfect chamomile, and he can taste hints of honey in it. Yunho grabs a handful of gummy bears and pops them in his mouth as he thinks about the answer.

"I think it's just practice, you know? Like, during the winter, the others would always use me as a heater. So I think I learned through that.” He wiggles his fingers conspiratorially at Yeosang, and the sun immediately shines brighter outside. Yeosang laughs, and that causes Yunho to laugh and they end up giggling over nothing.

Yunho leaves ten minutes later to buy _‘secret magical stuff’_ for Hongjoong (his words, not Yeosangs), and Yeosang goes back to reading his book. He takes a sip of the (still perfectly warm) tea as he flips through the pages, engrossed in what Julie will do next with her magic.

He spends the rest of his afternoon finishing the book and occasionally taking a drink of tea. It’s anticlimactic, and not at all how he’d imagined his first day to go. Perhaps he’d thought that everything with this group of magicks would be chaotic and slightly worrying. He hasn’t even run into a ghost yet, which says a lot.

That’s not to say that Yeosang isn’t thoroughly savouring this newfound quiet. He likes his roommates, but going from living alone with his dad to seven constantly loud magicks is a _lot_. So, Yeosang basks in the silence for now.

It’s four pm by the time someone comes in the store. The jingle of the bell breaks Yeosang out of his reading trance. He looks up, a fake customer service smile on full display. But, instead of an old grandmother or overeager tourist, he sees Jongho.

“Oh, hi Yeosang, forgot you were working today,” Jongho seems just as surprised to see him as Yeosang is.

“Um… are you coming back from class?” Yeosang asks, and then mentally curses himself for being so awkward. “Yeah, class got cancelled because the professor’s sick so I’m back early.” Jongho walks over to the counter and sets down his backpack (there’s a certain _tenderness_ in the way Jongho holds his backpack that makes Yeosang wonder what his magic is).

“What are you reading?” He nods at the book in Yeosang’s hand. “Two Magicks, One soul. It’s kind of like Romeo and Juliet I guess,” at the mention of the book, Jongho’s eyes light up. “I read that book too! Ha! Seonghwa told me it was too immature for a university student.” Jongho smiles, and then gestures to the empty seat next to Yeosang. “Do you wanna talk about the plot? I'm dying to talk with someone who won't judge me for reading 'old lady books'.” Jongho’s face is expectant, and Yeosang immediately nods (he thinks he’ll probably have a problem saying ‘no’ to Jongho).

They have a heated discussion over whether Julie should've given up her magic (Yeosang says no, Jongho says yes) and Jongho ‘ _accidentally_ ’ spoils the ending for Yeosang.

Nobody comes into the shop, which isn’t a surprise (Jongho said that, not Yeosang. Please don’t fire him, Hongjoong).

At six o’clock, Jongho goes upstairs to help Seonghwa and Mingi make dinner. Yeosang gets up and stretches a bit, before going to lock up the store. The light from the sun outside the window contrasts the dark green of the store. Yeosang pauses a moment there as he’s pulling down the blinds, staring out the window absently. A whole day has went by in this store, in this _apartment._ Yeosang feels _giddy,_ like a school girl giving chocolates to her crush (not the best analogy, but Yeosang was never good at analogies anyways). 

He hears a slow song being played from upstairs. It reminds him of the morning, and he cracks a soft smile when he thinks about the horrible dancing. He hums the tune under his breath as he does his final rounds around the bookstore (he doesn’t even need to, nobody came in anyway). “Yeosang! Dinner time! We promise we won’t talk about Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s sex life again-” Wooyoung’s shout is followed by a loud smack and an angry _‘stop before I make you eat dinner on the floor again’_ from Seonghwa.

Yeosang yells a _'coming'_ and he turns the ‘ _we’re open!’_ sign over to the _‘we’re closed, sorry not sorry’._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise this isn't seongjoongsang or jongsang or yunsang i just wanted yeo to get to know everyone first and i'm bad at making romantic plots ~.~ 
> 
> hope you liked this chapter.... i really hope i'm not boring yall (#^^#)ゞ.... 
> 
> have a good day loves and remember to drink lots of hot tea~!


	4. interlude I: seonghwa holds the braincells

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoo, it's been a hot minute hasn't it. hi y'all!!!!! i am back with another Attempt At Humour. this one will be a little short, but enjoy :D

Seonghwa is the only one out of the eight of them that knows how to cook.

Yeosang learns that the hard way.

It starts on Friday.

Yeosang is reading (he’s trying to, at least) a book on the couch. Wooyoung and San are beside him, playing Mario Kart. Well, ‘playing’ is subjective, because everytime Wooyoung loses, he complains (quite loudly, if Yeosang may add) about it to Yeosang.

“Look, Yeosangie, San is definitely cheating, look at that. Where the fuck did that shell come from, you conniving bastard!” Oh, and did he mention they’ve taken to calling him Yeosangie? Because they have. At least it’s better than ‘Yeo-yeo’, which is the godawful nickname Yunho came up with on Thursday.

Wooyoung lets out a frustrated breath, and he tosses his controller onto the table.

“You’re just salty that I'm so much better than you at this,” San smirks, and Yeosang sighs internally because he knows what’s going to happen. Wooyoung screeches indignantly, and then he turns into a cat and bites San’s hand. Yes, that’s something else Yeosang has learned. Apparently, Wooyoung can turn into an animal at will, which is fun. Well, except for when Yeosang gets up at night to go to the bathroom, only to find a black cat with glowing eyes staring at him

(He doesn’t want to talk about it)

(He screamed)

As San is desperately trying to stop a feral Wooyoung from ruining his shirt, Seonghwa comes home. He spares a glance at the two and then turns to Yeosang, and shakes his head. God, Yeosang just wants to read his copy of “The Old Man and the Sea” in peace.

Is this relevant to the catastrophic dinner Yeosang was talking about? No, but he thought it deserved to be shared.

Back to the matter at hand. Seonghwa acts… _strange_ throughout dinner. He seems on edge and worried. No matter how many times they all reassure him the food is great, he doesn’t relax.

“What’s wrong?” Jongho finally says, and even though he doesn’t specify, everybody knows who he’s talking about. Seonghwa puts down his chopsticks and sighs.

“I have to cover the night shift at the bar tomorrow, I can’t make dinner,” his tone is morbid, like he’s just informed them he’s killed a man. Yeosang looks around, confused, but he sees that everyone is in varying degrees of shock. Hongjoong dropped his fork, Wooyoung has his hand over his mouth, and Yunho looks horrified.

“It’s… just dinner?” He says, and he hears a chorus of disagreeing yells, mostly from San and Wooyoung. Hongjoong sighs, and scrubs his face with his hands. “It’s not just dinner… none of us can cook.” He mumbles the last part, and this time Yeosang is the one to gasp. “We can order pizza right?” Yeosang asks, but they all shake their heads.

“We got banned from the local pizza place because we were too cool,” Mingi pipes up, and promptly gets smacked up the head by Hongjoong. “No, we got banned because you’re all a bunch of apes who don’t know what manners are,” he says sharply.

“Everytime we try to cook, one of us either ends up hurt or poisoned. Jongho broke the countertop one time,” Yunho says, his usual air of cheer gone. Everyone nods solemnly.

“No worries Yeosang! We’ll figure something out!” San gives an encouraging thumbs up, but the look on Hongjoong’s face says otherwise. “We’re all gonna die.” Jongho murmurs.

///

“Why do we have six pans? Why do we have thirteen decorative plates? What the fuck?” San exclaims incredulously, looking inside one of their cabinets. Saturday came too soon for Yeosang’s liking, and now it’s six pm. The six of them are crammed into the tiny kitchen, aside from Wooyoung, who is sitting at the counter (he’s still banished).

“Guys did you know we have a spice cabinet? A whole cabinet! For spices!” San gestures wildly like it’s the most ridiculous thing in the world. “Wait, what does this do?” Jongho holds up a potato peeler, and at the same time, Yunho bumps his head on their hanging pot rack. Hongjoong sucks in a steadying breath, his seventh one this evening.

“What are we making?” Yeosang asks, because they haven’t even decided on _ingredients_ yet. “Can we make fried rice? That’s easy, right?” San says, and then he turns around and bumps into Jongho, who is still staring at the potato peeler.

“Okay… Jongho out, and you can take the potato peeler with you. Your cooking skills are barely better than Wooyoung’s, and I’ve seen him eat raw broccoli before,” Hongjoong makes a shooing motion at Jongho, and Jongho skips away, looking rather happy that he’s been exempt from cooking duty. “Hey, I was drunk okay?” Wooyoung pouts from his ‘timeout stool’.

“We can make fried rice, that’s simple enough. And no one will get burned this time!” Mingi beams. Yeosang holds back the retort that not getting burned from making fried rice is quite possibly the _lowest_ bar they could set.

Yeosang and San are assigned to beat the eggs, and they get off to a rocky start. “We should use like twenty eggs right? That seems about right.” San holds up two cartons of eggs to Yeosang, who takes one of them in his hands.

“Well… uh…” Yeosang looks over at Hongjoong, but he’s too busy teaching Yunho that _no, you can not just use your powers to cook the meat, that's not how it works_. “Yeah, sure. Let’s use twenty eggs, that sounds about right.” He says.

Here’s the thing about Yeosang, he doesn’t know how to cook. Actually, he can barely boil water without burning it. Don’t judge him, he likes takeout a lot, okay? Putting Yeosang and San together to make eggs was possibly the worst decision Hongjoong could have made. Yeosang doesn’t know what a tablespoon is and San believes that ketchup counts as a spice.

By the time Hongjoong finishes teaching Yunho how to properly defrost meat, Yeosang and San have a salad bowl of eggs. Yes, you heard that right. They have a salad bowl full of whipped eggs. Granted, a quarter of it is egg shells but San assures Yeosang that they’re edible. Yeosang nods, because that sounds reasonable enough.

“Hongjoong, can I fry the vegetables with bacon?” Mingi questions out loud, grabbing expired bacon out of the fridge. Hongjoong rushes over to Mingi but then-

“Oh yeah Hongjoong, eggshells are edible, right?” San gives no time for Hongjoong to answer, as he pops an eggshell into his mouth.

“Hold up San, eggshells aren’t-”

“Wait Hongjoong, I think I just dumped sugar onto the meat,” Yunho adds, dipping his finger into the white pile and putting it into his mouth, and then immediately cringing. “Yup, I definitely put sugar in it.”

“Oh my fucking god, everybody stop what you’re doing.” Hongjoong’s irises are glowing a faint blue. Everybody immediately freezes. Magick’s eyes only glow when they’re experiencing extreme emotions, and since Hongjoong is the calmest in their group, no one’s ever seen his eyes glow.

“I can’t do this,” he murmurs, massaging his temples with one hand. Hongjoong sucks in a deep breath, and releases. In and out. In and out. In and out.

“We’re getting takeout.” He announces.

“Wait but-” Mingi starts, but is quickly shut up when Hongjoong sends a (glowing) glare his way. Nobody says a word as they drive silently to the pizza place. The employee tries to kick them out. _Tries_. A mad Hongjoong is terrifying, and the teenager cashier is no match for him. The poor guy almost cried.

Nobody says anything as they wait and nobody says anything as they drive home. Even Wooyoung is quiet. And when Wooyoung is quiet, that's when they all know they fucked up. 

Seonghwa comes home the next day, and they all band together to give him a group hug. Even Yeosang gets in on it. They’re all grateful to have him home, god knows that if they had to make dinner one more day, Hongjoong would drown all of them (pun intended).

“Wait, so San actually ate an eggshell?”

“Oh, come on!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm thinking about making the next chapters little fun interludes where yeosang gets dragged into the group shenanigans (^^l|) what do y'all think? oh and also i finally got twitter! 
> 
> stay safe and hydrated loves <3
> 
> my twitter: @adda1370


	5. interlude II: you can wear a skirt if you want

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOOOO OMG I AM BACK W CHAPTER 5 i am SO SORRY this took me SO damn LONG to make. i was hit with so much work before the winter break and also a GIANT writer's block for this story, i just felt like nothing i wrote could be good, you know? i'm not even happy with this chapter, because i feel like it might be too long or too boring or just plain terrible, but i wanted to update this story SO bad. im so sorry afeoiwjfojeioj 
> 
> also if youre not comfortable with boys wearing skirts, idk what to tell you but maybe this chapter isn't for you.

Hongjoong loves his seven roommates (children). Sure, he occasionally fantasizes about throwing Wooyoung and San into the ocean when they try to start fights in the local bars (it’s happened four times in the past month). And yeah, maybe he’s  _ almost _ cursed Yunho to never be able to speak again after he tried communicating in barks one week, but that’s just parenting. He loves his children. 

So when he hears loud thuds coming from outside at nine am on a Sunday morning, he just has to remind himself that  _ yes, he loves them very much and yes, murder is still illegal _ . He sighs, burying himself deeper into Seonghwa’s arms. He doesn’t really care if Mingi is bleeding to death or if Jongho broke another counter, Seonghwa’s embrace is warm and Hongjoong wants cuddles. The bed feels like cotton, and it is simply  _ too _ early to be dealing with his wild roommates (children). 

“Joongie, go,” Seonghwa mutters. He places a soft kiss on Hongjoong’s head before  _ rudely  _ pushing Hongjoong out of his embrace. “Betrayal,” Hongjoong fake gasps, and Seonghwa only chuckles lightly. With much reluctance and a  _ lot _ of pouty complaints, Hongjoong gets out of bed. 

(His warm, heavenly, bed with Seonghwa in it, that  _ traitor _ ) 

He drags himself out of their room, surprised to see the first floor deserted. A pang of irritation hits his chest when he realizes he got up for  _ nothing.  _ He's about to head back to _warm hugs_ when he hears a booming voice that sounds distinctively like Wooyoung coming from the second floor. 

“If I come up there and nobody’s dead, I’ll make sure one of you  _ does _ die.” He yells out, and then makes the slow ascent upstairs. He cringes a bit at the condition the stairs are in, it’s a spiral staircase, but the black paint is chipping at the ends and is overall screaming  _ ‘repair me’ _ . He’ll fix it later, along with their TV that only gets two channels, the washing machine that’s been broken ever since Wooyoung moved in, and their fan that Jongho accidentally broke. 

When he gets upstairs, he sees Yeosang sitting in his pajamas outside his room, his door flung open. Yeosang looks a little like a lost duckling, and Hongjoong  _ would _ find it adorable if he could just find  _ where _ Wooyoung is. 

“Yeosang?” He asks, and Yeosang waves. “Hey Hongjoong, what are you doing up so early?” He asks nonchalantly, as if this was a completely normal situation for him. “Uh… what are you doing?” Hongjoong gestures to his spot on the ground and Yeosang shrugs. “Wooyoung told me to sit here,” he points inside his room, and that’s when Hongjoong hears all the shuffling noises coming out of there. 

Hongjoong peers inside Yeosang’s room, and he sees Wooyoung in there, walking frantically around the tiny space. Wooyoung sighs deeply, and then puts his hands on his hips while he looks around at the mess he’s made. Drawers are open, clothes scattered on the floor (well, technically they’re in neat piles), and the bed is an unmade chaos. “Wooyoung, what in the everloving  _ fuck _ are you doing.” Hongjoong asks, letting out an irritated breath. 

“He has  _ nothing,  _ hyung. He doesn’t have decorations in his room, he has  _ three _ t shirts max, and he doesn’t even have a _ coat!  _ What’s he gonna do in the winter? I’m not letting him freeze to death here. He doesn’t even have a working lamp! Look at this!” To demonstrate, Wooyoung repeatedly clicks the lamp switch, to no avail. “I have four t-shirts, actually,” is all Yeosang says in reply. Hongjoong purses his lips in thought, it’s true that Yeosang doesn’t have many possessions. When he first got here, Hongjoong thought that his suitcase and backpack were filled to the brim with clothes or something, but it turns out that they were just filled with snacks. He gives Yeosang’s pajamas a glance, and they look to be  _ years _ old. They’re yellow (at least Hongjoong  _ hopes _ that’s their natural colour), and they have a faded cartoon of spongebob on them. 

“Yeosangie needs clothes, is what I’m saying.” Wooyoung crosses his arms and looks expectantly at Hongjoong. “What do you think, Yeosang?” Hongjoong looks over at Yeosang, who seems surprised at the fact that they’re asking him. “Um… well, I don’t think I have the money for that.” Wooyoung chews on his lips in thought, coming up with a solution. 

“We can go to a thrift store. You’ve made more than enough money at the bookstore to cover rent  _ and _ clothing costs, especially with all the extra shifts you took on for us when we couldn’t.” Hongjoong gapes in surprise, he didn’t know Wooyoung was capable of math. He’s seen him pull out a calculator for adding  _ single _ digits. “We’re going shopping and that’s that. I can not  _ bear _ your empty room anymore, you’re part of us now and nobody under this roof will live in an undecorated, basic room. I don’t care if I have to drag you there.” Wooyoung crosses his arms again and levels Yeosang with a challenging look.

“I mean… I  _ have _ been thinking of getting some clothes.” He admits carefully, deliberately avoiding eye contact. Wooyoung  _ squeals _ , he full-on squeals in excitement. Hongjoong doesn’t think he’s seen him this eager to do something since San asked him to prank Yunho. “I’ll get everybody up and we can go to Lisa’s store… we haven’t been there since the last time Yunho almost burnt it down.” He says, and then rushes past Hongjoong to go bang on the others’ doors. A chorus of groans ring out after the aggressive knocking. San shouts a  _ ‘fuck you’ _ for good measure. 

“Yunho almost  _ what _ now?” Yeosang asks incredulously, to which Hongjoong just gives him a look of exasperation. “Yunho’s done a lot of things, and I don’t think almost burning down Lisa’s store is even at the top of his list.” 

_ /// _

Yeosang is having a Time™. First, his precious Saturday beauty sleep is cut short abruptly by the one and only Jung Wooyoung. Then, once again, the one and only Jung Wooyoung convinces him to go  _ thrifting _ . At ten am. On a Saturday. A time he’s  _ supposed _ to be happily sleeping in his fluffy bed. But  _ no, _ he’s standing with the rest of his (unwilling) roommates in front of a vintage thrift shop that feels suspiciously magical. What has his life turned to? 

“Is this it?” Yeosang gestures at the store in front of them. If he’s going to be completely honest, it looks like their bookstore. Well, a  _ fancier _ ,  _ better _ ,  _ upgraded _ version of their bookstore. Maybe Hongjoong and Seonghwa should quit the bookstore business and move into thrifting. The outside is painted a rich black, and the name reads ‘Forever Young’ in an elegant pink. The entire shop has a vintage feel to it, down to the design of the wood. Through the large display window, he can see pearls and lace dresses draped over posing mannequins. If his gaze lingers a little too long on the skirts in the window, no one needs to know. 

“Yep!” Wooyoung beams, proudly showing off the store as if it were his. San yawns, “can we go inside now that we’ve  _ marvelled _ at the chipping paint on the walls.” Wooyoung smacks San’s shoulder in offense, but San brushes him off with a roll of his eyes. Yeosang doesn’t blame him, he’s pretty sure San is still in his pajamas. Wooyoung didn’t exactly give them a lot of time to get ready. Yeosang got  _ one _ leg into his jeans before Wooyoung rushed him out the door. Yunho barely got a bite of his toast in before Wooyoung threatened to scratch his eyes out if he didn’t move. Jongho is crouching on the pavement, half asleep. “Get up, Jongho.” Seonghwa nudges Jongho with his foot, but Yeosang also catches him looking longingly at the pavement floor. It’s safe to say that they all just want to be back home. Jongho sighs deeply, and then reluctantly stands up. 

“Come on Yeosang, let’s go inside,” Hongjoong grabs Yeosang’s arm and leads him through the dark oak doors. There’s a girl sitting behind the counter inside, scrolling through her phone idly. She has short black hair and bangs, and she looks vaguely familiar, but Yeosang can’t quite place where he’s met her before. “Yah! Lisa!” Wooyoung calls out to the girl, waving his hands around wildly. The girl's face lights up when she spots them by the doorway, and she rushes over to jump into Wooyoung’s embrace. 

“Oh my god Youngie! I haven’t seen you in forever!” She exclaims, looking Wooyoung up and down. Yeosang stares holes into the side of her head, he feels like the answer to where he’s seen her before is just  _ barely _ out of reach from his fingers. Was it when he was sleeping on the streets? No, that doesn’t sound right, he would remember it then. 

“Um… Hi Lisa-ssi,” Yunho stammers, decidedly looking anywhere but at Lisa, who raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him. “Hello Yunho, I see you haven’t burst into flames yet.” She cracks a teasing grin at him, taking a step back to assess all eight of them. “Hongjoong! I see you  _ finally _ got together with Seonghwa,” She giggles, eliciting a blush out of both Seonghwa and Hongjoong. 

Yeosang furrows his brows, completely lost in his thoughts. What  _ is it? _ Was it when he was still back in his dad’s house? That timeline seems right, but  _ where _ ? Where did he ever meet Lisa? How does he recognize the girl running a thrift shop two blocks away from his apartment? Was it… at the parties his dad hosted? The idea feels close, but which one? His dad held  _ hundreds _ of parties for him so he could make connections or find a girlfriend (his dad’s tactic was essentially ‘ignore the gay’). A girl with bangs named Lisa, that should be memorable, right?  _ Right _ . 

“Lalisa Manoban,” he blurts out, foggy memories of a jaded girl with bangs begrudgingly introducing herself to him. “From the party.” He finishes, letting everything from that party come back to him. His roommates all look bewildered at his words, he can’t blame them, it’s not like he talks a lot about himself. The deepest thing they know about him so far is his magic. And that he screams when he’s scared. (Again, thank you to the One and Only Jung Wooyoung™). 

“Oh. It’s you,” to her credit, Lisa doesn’t look  _ disgusted _ at the fact that Yeosang’s here, but she doesn’t look excited to see him either. She mostly just looks confused. “How do  _ you  _ two know each other?” Yunho points between the two of them slowly, as if the two of them being acquainted is the most ridiculous thing ever. Lisa sighs, “our parents know each other. We met once.” Yeosang nods, even though it is quite possibly the most cryptic version out of the many answers she could’ve given. 

“Come on in, don’t just stand there, go find some clothes. I’m gonna go tell Chae that you guys are here!” She turns away from them and disappears behind the ‘employees only’ door. The minute they hear the door click shut, they all turn their heads to Yeosang. 

“How do you actually know Lisa?” Seonghwa is the first one to ask him, and Yeosang considers the reasons why he shouldn’t tell them. The main one is that he  _ doesn’t want to _ , and that’s as good of a reason as any. It’s not like he  _ won’t _ tell them, he’ll just  _ sugarcoat _ the truth a little. 

“We’ve met once before at one of my family’s parties, there’s not much to say. Let’s go inside.” He shrugs, and then heads further into the shop before they can ask him anymore prying questions. If he delves into the details of the party, it would just raise questions about his dad and a lot of fun jazz that Yeosang doesn’t want to talk about. In truth, Lisa and him got along well at the party. Within the first minute of their initial meeting, Lisa told him that she was gay and also threatened to cut off his fingers if he tried anything. Needless to say, they found something in common. But, they didn’t talk much. Yeosang kept getting whisked away by his dad to greet a certain company CEO or a “really nice girl who gets great grades in school”. 

He barely got through a conversation with Lisa before the night ended and they both had to leave. 

He doesn’t know why she’s running a  _ thrift shop _ now, but maybe it’s for the same reasons as why he’s working in a bookstore.  _ Magic _ . Either way, she doesn’t look like she’s doing too bad for herself. The shop is lit up by a fancy chandelier that hangs on the ceiling, and it looks oddly like something his dad would buy for their home. There’s a light sprinkling of magic in the shop that wafts through the air, perhaps an illusion spell to help sell the shop's image. In the month he’s spent with his roommates, he’s acquired a pretty nifty sense for detecting spells and magic charms. He really didn’t have a choice, magic is used in their household everyday. With Hongjoong being a witch (now  _ that’s _ a story for another day), he got used to the distinct  _ feel _ of spells. They depend on the person. Hongjoong’s spell always have that specific hint of sea. Lisa’s spells seem to have a strawberry-like tang to them, and Yeosang thinks it fits seamlessly with Lisa’s personality. 

He pretends to sift through a clothes rack cheerfully labelled ‘ _ summer wear!!’ _ , ignoring the stares his roommates send his way. “Uh… okay then. But Yeosang, I better see you grab  _ at least _ three shirts, two sweaters, a lamp, and  _ three  _ decorations for your room.” Wooyoung wags a warning finger, placing a wicker shopping basket on the floor beside him. From the corner of his eye, Yeosang sees them disperse around the store. Wooyoung is forcing Hongjoong and Seonghwa to help him pick out a birthday present for his friend Changbin, Mingi and Yunho are trying on different hats, and Jongho and San have decided to play with the little trinkets at the front. They’ve left him be, for  _ now _ . He’s sure one of them will ask him about it later. A shudder passes through Yeosang as he thinks of the sheer  _ awkwardness _ of Hongjoong trying to get him to reveal his Tragic Anime Past™. He’d rather die, thank you very much. 

Yeosang hums a jazzy tune under his breath while he shops, a melody that he’s heard Mingi sing while getting ready in the bathroom  _ many  _ times. He picks out a few oversized t-shirts for his basket, and finds a vintage oversized sweater at the back of the  _ ‘brrr! winter clothes!!’  _ rack. His hand brushes past the skirts a few times, but he’s too much of a coward to actually check them out. 

“Yeosang! Choose one,” Yunho waves him over, brandishing two lamps in his hands. The smaller of the two has an intricate lace pattern and the bigger lamp is a dark blue ceramic one. Yeosang squints at both, and then points at the laced one, which puts a wide smile on Yunho’s face. 

“San! I told you to stop trying to buy those ceramic cats, you have an actual problem. We can’t fit  _ any more _ of those things in our room. Put that away right now or  _ I swear to god _ ,” Wooyoung holds up a plastic fork threateningly, which makes all of them erupt into laughter. San gasps in feigned offense, but he still places the five ceramic cats into his basket nonetheless. 

“That isn’t fair, you hoe _.  _ You’re the one who brings  _ actual _ cats into our room, like some kind of cat pimp.” San sticks his tongue out at Wooyoung, who does it back. The whole scene reminds Yeosang of two siblings bickering over who gets the bigger room in their house. He chuckles softly at the image, and then picks up his basket and slips away into one of the dressing rooms. He closes the curtain tightly against the wall, praying that no one will be able to see him. If he makes too much noise trying on the clothes, he’s sure Wooyoung will notice and make him do a  _ fashion _ show. He tries on the shirts first, letting the soft fabric embrace his skin. They feel like thin pajamas, the perfect kind of material for warm Seoul summers. He puts on the sweater next, and it drapes over his frame loosely, just like he likes it. The clothes are all fine, but Yeosang can’t help but notice a nagging feeling of  _ ‘not right’. _ They’re  _ okay _ , but they don’t exactly feel  _ good _ . Yeosang shakes thoughts of a pleated skirt off his mind, he’s already embarrassed himself enough in front of the others, he doesn’t want to add ‘likes to wear dresses’ to the list. 

A soft knocking comes from outside the room and he hears San mutter a quiet  _ ‘it’s me’ _ . Yeosang pats down his hair to make sure he looks presentable, and then cracks open the curtain. “Can I come in?” San asks him, and Yeosang catches sight of something that he’s hiding behind his back but he doesn’t question it. San seems oddly quiet, especially for someone who was  _ just _ screaming about ceramic cats. Yeosang nods and then opens the curtain fully to let San in. Thankfully, the room is big enough to fit the both of them so it isn’t  _ too _ uncomfortable. 

“Nice sweater,” San remarks, still unwilling to show whatever he’s holding behind his back. A suffocatingly awkward silence ensues, due to both San’s unexplainable anxiety and Yeosang’s unwillingness to start conversations. You could _literally_ slice the tension in the air with a knife. The thing is, Yeosang hasn’t exactly _hung out_ with San in the time that he’s spent with the others. Well, they talk occasionally when Yeosang has his shift in the bookstore. Sometimes during breakfast or dinner, but never in private. Yeosang _tries_ to be friendly with all his roommates, even if it’s true that he might have a _little_ favouritism problem. (He talks the most to Hongjoong, Wooyoung, and Yunho. They’re just _approachable,_ you know? Don’t look at him, he’s a stupid introvert with horrible socializing skills.)

Yeosang fiddles with the ends of the sweater, trying his best not to make eye contact with San, who’s found something  _ really _ interesting on the ground. “Um,” Yeosang starts, eloquent as always. What’s he supposed to ask? Luckily, San spares Yeosang the pain and suffering of having to properly start the conversation. 

“Here,” San brings the thing he was holding from behind his back and hands it over to Yeosang. He looks down at the ‘thing’ in confusion. It’s… a skirt? The black pleated one from the display window, specifically. White, hot shame flushes through Yeosang’s face as he continues to stare at the skirt in his hand.  _ Did everybody notice? Do they think he’s weird? Is this a prank to embarrass him? _ He didn’t know San had it in him to be this heartless, going as far as to make fun of him. But, apparently Yeosang is a bad judge of character. A twisting knot grows in his stomach as he stands there, unsure what to say. 

San seems to catch on to what he’s thinking quickly, because he hurriedly tries to explain himself, “no, no, no. I saw you looking at it in the display window outside! And… well… I thought maybe… you were a bit embarrassed? So, I got it for you. If you still feel awkward about letting the others see you buy it, I can do it for you, I think you’d look nice in them!” San smiles warmly at him, gently pushing the skirt further into Yeosang’s arms. The unease melts off of Yeosang like candle wax and gathers in a puddle on the ground. An overwhelming wave of relief and gratitude washes over Yeosang, and he lets himself break out into a small smile. “You didn’t need to do this for me,” he says quietly, clutching onto the skirt like it’s a lifeline. The beginning of tears sting the back of his eyes, and he bites his lip to fight them off.  _ Fuck, he is not about to cry over a fucking skirt in front of San.  _

San considers him for a while, and then he sits down on the couch in front of the dressing room mirror. He smiles up at Yeosang and pats the spot next to him, “I’m going to tell you something about a young and very fashionably blind San.” He lets out a small laugh under his breath. Yeosang complies, sitting down next to San on the smooth, velvet bench. “You know that I wear makeup a lot, right?” San asks, and Yeosang gives a tiny nod. He sees San applying it every morning in the bathroom, and the enchanting way in which he maneuvers the brushes makes Yeosang think he’s a professional. 

“Well, when I first came to the bookstore, I was… a lot more different. Scared. I think that’s the word. My family wasn't exactly… accepting? Yeah. I didn’t get to express myself a lot and-” he pauses to take in a deep breath, “-I came to the bookstore as a stupid, terrified, teenager.” There’s a story behind that, but Yeosang knows that now isn’t the time to ask. “Everyone warmed up to me really fast, and they were all so… accepting. Well, I don’t think I need to explain that to you,” San looks over at him and smiles again. Yeosang shyly nods, he isn’t  _ wrong _ . 

“Well,” he continues, “we went to the mall one day. And I  _ really _ wanted this fancy eyeshadow palette, but I was  _ so _ fucking scared of getting it. I didn’t want them to think of me less, you know? I still didn’t get it when we left by the way, and I basically sulked the whole way home. Very, very emo,” they both break into a laugh, a hushed one, so nobody knows they’re both secretly talking in the dressing room. Yeosang feels that same  _ thing _ bloom in his chest, knowing that San is sharing a personal story with him to try and make him feel better. 

“Anyways, the next day, Hongjoong showed up at my room with that  _ exact  _ same palette. He told me that as long as it made me happy, I shouldn’t keep myself away from it. And then, he asked me to do his makeup. I was still a bit hesitant wearing it, but when I did, everybody complimented me. I know that maybe it’s a bit scary right now, and it’ll be a bit more scary when you’re actually wearing it, but if you like it, don’t keep yourself away from it Yeosang.” San lightly pats Yeosang’s hand, giving him a reassuring smile. 

Yeosang looks down at his hands, he can’t  _ quite _ look San in the eyes yet. He’s pretty sure that if he does, he’ll cry. Perhaps it’s a bit pathetic that San’s speech is the kindest thing that anyone’s said to him. But, sitting in that cramped dressing room on the verge of tears, Yeosang finds that he doesn’t really give a shit. “Thank you,” he murmurs, just loud enough for San to hear. 

“Are you guys making out in there because we’ve been waiting for you two to come out for thirty minutes.” Wooyoung’s unimpressed voice breaks whatever moment they were having. Yeosang blushes, of course he blushes, because god (once again) hates him. Wooyoung pulls open the curtain and gives them a flat stare, “so are the lovebirds done?” 

“No, we were in here hiding from you,” he retaliates, and San lets out a surprised laugh. Wooyoung rolls his eyes dramatically at him, “come on, get out of there.”

///

Yeosang does end up buying the skirt. Along with the shirts, the sweater, the lamp, and three pairs of earrings that Hongjoong  _ insisted _ would look good on him. Nobody comments on the skirt, even if Yeosang feels like it’s shining a beam of visibility from the basket. Seonghwa does send him a warm smile, but Seonghwa sends him warm smiles all the time. 

When he goes to pay at the front, he sees a small ceramic of an orange tabby by the register. Wordlessly, he sneaks it into his shopping basket without anyone seeing. 

At night, when everybody is in their rooms, Yeosang delicately places the skirt inside his dresser. He might not be able to bring himself to wear it  _ just _ yet, but he’s getting there. 

And that’s fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please tell me how you thought about this chapter!!!! ik i'm not really a good writer so maybe you could give me a little constructive criticism??? (๑•́‧̫•̀๑)
> 
> also if you would like me to physically apologize for how bad this chapter is, im fine w that. ●|￣|＿ (<\- me apologizing)


	6. interlude III: to banana milk or not to banana milk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me updating this fic so soon????? has a miracle happened????? is this because 2020 was just a bitch that dragged my creativity through the mud??? very likely. this will be the last of the interludessss and we might get into a tiny bit of more serious stuff, especially with their backstories. also i'm sorry i keep writing about things Not Sansang™ i'm just in love with the found family trope and how they're all together like a tight knit group of raccoons (have you seen raccoon families???? inseparable) ,,, and yeah this is the result of me yearning for more yeosang centric found family tropes.

Yeosang flatly stares at the cashier, who returns an even flatter stare as he hands him a plastic bag full of snacks. He looks two minutes away from death, and Yeosang relates. He accepts the bag and his change, debating whether or not he should put something in the small jar labelled _‘tips, thank you!’._

At the same time, he hears Mingi scream _‘KETCHUP CHIPS ARE THE ONLY VALID TYPE OF CHIPS’,_ followed by Wooyoung saying _‘if you buy those disgusting chips, I will kill you and bury your body in an unmarked grave’._

Yeosang drops the rest of the change in the tip jar.

The cashier gives him what seems to be an attempt at a smile, but it comes out looking like the face dogs make when they want to throw up. He appreciates it nonetheless.

“Yeosang, come over here and tell Wooyoung his taste in ice cream is appalling,” Yunho calls out muffledly from somewhere _inside_ the frozen section’s fridge. Yeosang sighs internally, how'd his night turn out like this? 

/ 

It starts with Wooyoung. Of course it does. Nothing disastrous ever starts _without_ Wooyoung

(“Hey! That’s not true,” Wooyoung sulks. Seonghwa then rattles off a comprehensive list of the _many_ times Wooyoung’s almost been charged with accidental manslaughter, including the _three_ times he almost burned the apartment down. “Don’t forget the time he and Yunho ate _raw_ cookie batter with _eggs_ in them and got salmonella,” San pipes up. Wooyoung closes his mouth). 

“So,” Wooyoung starts during dinner, trying to speak through the four kimbap rolls he has in his mouth. Seonghwa puts his hand over Wooyoung’s mouth, “don’t speak until you’ve finished your food, you toddler.”

Yeosang watches this interaction go down with amusement, sitting quietly on the floor next to Mingi and Jongho. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Mingi sneak the last kimbap roll in his bowl. A huge smile spreads across Mingi’s face when he thinks he got away with it, and Yeosang doesn’t try to tell him otherwise.

It’s nice, Yeosang supposes, having his roommates take care of him. He’s never had people in his life try to _secretly_ _care_ for him, and it makes him feel a little out of his element. It’s not a bad feeling though. In return, he picks up the kimbap in his bowl and makes a show of putting it in his mouth. Mingi’s smile grows wider. 

“Ahem, as I was saying,” Wooyoung swallows the rest of his food, “We need to get a new washing machine.”

Hongjoong scoffs, “of course we do. I’m getting really tired of using _magic_ to wash our clothes.”

Yeosang frowns at that, he thought they did have a washing machine. Well, technically, he’s never been on laundry duty before, Hongjoong is always the one who does it. Huh, so _that’s_ why he’s never heard the sound of the washing machine. He always assumed it was because of a silencing spell.

“So, you’ve been washing our clothes… with sea water?” He wonders aloud, thinking about how _all_ of them have been casually wearing clothes that smelled like _salt_ and _fish._

“Hyung, please don't tell me I’ve been going to my classes smelling like the little mermaid.” Jongho wrinkles his nose, and Hongjoong puffs up his cheeks indignantly. 

“Hey. It takes too long to do it the manual way, and also I didn’t hear _any_ of you complain when I washed all _seven_ of your dirty pajamas,” he sends them both a glare, but there’s no heat behind it.

“We could get one off Craig’s list, but the last time I went on there, some guy asked me if I wanted to buy his sister’s hair,” San chimes in, helpfully implanting a terrifying image into all of their heads. Seonghwa presses his lips into a thin line and sets down his chopsticks, “thank you for taking away my appetite.” Yeosang puts his chopsticks down too, his mind swimming with images of a creepy guy cutting off his sister’s hair and then trying to _sell_ it online.

“What the fuck, San.” Wooyoung says, and Yeosang agrees.

What the _fuck_ , San.

“One time some guy online asked me if I wanted to have sex with his wife while he filmed it, and that I would be wearing a dinosaur costume while doing it. He offered me two thousand dollars,” Yunho says, and there goes any chance of _any_ of their appetite’s coming back. “Did you do it?” Mingi asks, and Yunho shakes his head regretfully. “I was a minor back then.” In his head, Yeosang wonders why that’s the only problem Yunho had with it. 

“Horrifying Craig’s list stories aside, we do still need a washing machine.” Wooyoung clears his throat, sending a dirty look at Yunho and San. “I know a guy at a store who’s probably willing to give us one for a discount, but we’re gonna need to assemble some parts ourselves.” Hongjoong chews on his lower lip, and Yeosang shares his concern. Altogether, the eight of them have four brain cells, max. Seonghwa probably holds three of those four brian cells, considering he’s the only person among them that has actual life skills. He’s seen Wooyoung hit a clogged sink with a wrench before, because that’s how his video game characters did it. Sadly, it did not work. 

“What guy? You have like, two friends aside from us.” San teases, which earns him a balled up tissue to the face. “I’ll have you know I have _plenty_ of friends,” Yeosang’s pretty sure he hears Seonghwa mumble a jealous _‘who’_ , but he ignores it. He’s fine not knowing anything _else_ about Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s love life, especially after he accidentally caught them making out on the couch one time.

(He was coming back from closing up the bookstore with Yunho, who screamed and tried to cover both of their eyes. It was too late– the damage had already been done). 

“His name's Chan. He’s really nice, so I’m sure he’ll help us out,” Hongjoong takes a sip of his black coffee (mind you, it is eight p.m), and raises an expectant eyebrow at them. “Let's do it."

/ 

So, that is why Yeosang is currently standing in front of the world’s most done cashier, trying his best not to think about how easy it’d be for him to leave his roommates in the store and never come back.

It’s tempting, but he also knows Jongho’s the only one who can find the way home, so he doesn’t. He doesn’t even know why they’re here, something from Seonghwa about needing snacks. It’s pretty clear that Hongjoong and Seonghwa only sent them to the convenience store so they wouldn’t be home, making a wreck of the apartment. 

Hongjoong and Seonghwa are meeting up with Chan at his magic shop (“the witch type, not the pull-a-rabbit-out-of-a-hat type,” Hongjoong tells him when he asks). Yeosang kind of feels like a weird babysitter, like when your parents ask you to watch over your siblings for the night while they go out on a date.

“Are they always like this,” The cashier asks him, casting a dead look at his roommates. Yeosang makes the mistake of following his line of sight, because he’s greeted with Wooyoung standing on a bright pink Barbie plastic chair while waving a bucket of mint chocolate in Yunho’s face.

“Unfortunately, yes,” he answers, and fishes out some more change from his pockets to put in the tip jar. The cashier stops him from depositing it by moving the tip jar away from him.

“Keep it, I’m pretty sure the loud one over there is going to be buying two tubs of mint ice cream, along with three bags of ketchup chips.” Yeosang looks over at Mingi, who waves at him with a shopping basket _full_ of ketchup chips. This is going to be a long night. 

“I’m going to go… check up on them.” He sets the bag down on the counter and walks over to Jongho, who’s standing in front of the drinks aisle, lost in his own thoughts. Yeosang tilts his head at him, Jongho’s been weird all day. Aside from the comment during dinner, he’s barely said anything all day. Even though Jongho doesn’t say a lot in general, Yeosang likes to think he’s observant enough to tell between Jongho’s different silences. They do their shifts together at the bookstore sometimes, and it’s a comfortable silence.

But this, this is different. A bad different. 

“Hey,” he says, shifting his feet awkwardly. He knows he wants to _do_ something, but he doesn’t know how he’s going to get Jongho to talk to him about it. He’s only been at the apartment a month and a half, maybe Jongho doesn’t consider them to be close. Yeosang likes to think he gets along with them, but what if Jongho doesn’t think the same? He’s probably just being creepy, maybe he should just leave Jongho be.

“Do you like banana milk?” Jongho blurts out, breaking Yeosang out of what was definitely going to be a self-deprecating spiral. “I’ve never tried it before,” he replies, caught off guard by Jongho’s question. It’s an honest answer. He wasn’t allowed to try a lot of things before, but Jongho doesn’t need to know that.

“It tastes bad. I tried it once, and I almost threw up,” Yeosang furrows his brows, what are they even talking about? 

“I thought it would be good at first, but it was terrible,” Jongho picks off a row of banana milk off the shelf, staring at it in his hand. Yeosang takes it as his cue to talk, although he doesn’t _quite_ know what he’s going to say. “A lot of things are like that,” he settles with, catching Jongho’s attention, “but if we don’t try them, we can’t ever say if it tastes bad or not.” He knows they’re not actually talking about banana milk now, but if this is how he’s going to get Jongho to talk, then he’ll indulge.

Jongho goes quiet for a long time, eyes glued to the banana milk in his hand. “I’m thinking of switching to a music major. I like it, but I don’t know if it’ll be good for me,” he finally says, in a hushed voice. Yeosang’s lips part slightly in surprise, he would’ve never taken Jongho to be a musician. Sure, he sings in the shower sometimes, but he doesn’t strike Yeosang as someone who’d enjoy performing in front of an audience. 

“Music isn’t banana milk.” Yeosang takes the drink from Jongho’s hand and places it back on the shelf. “I never drank tea before coming here, but Hongjoong’s tea is the only thing I drink now. Maybe music is your tea,” he gives Jongho a hopeful smile. Jongho goes quiet again, but there’s a little smile on his face now. Yeosang sees it as a complete win. 

"Maybe it is.” Jongho grabs two cans of milk tea off the shelf, handing one over to Yeosang. “Hongjoong’s gonna get so mad when he sees us drinking tea _not_ made by him,” Jongho says playfully, purposefully clinking his can to Yeosang’s.

“You can’t drink it if it isn’t paid for,” the cashier’s zombie-like voice drones from the front of the store. “Oh, but what a convenience, the camera’s are turned off. Oh wow, this bug on the floor is really interesting, I’m just going to look away for a second.” They both laugh, discreetly opening their cans and taking a sip. Obviously they’ll pay for it when they leave, Yeosang’s guilty conscience will make sure of it. For now, they take a little delight in drinking their unpaid for milk tea.

“Yeosang, can we get eight light sabers? It’s for educational purposes!” Wooyoung shouts from the back of the store, and they laugh some more. 

/ 

The washing machine is already assembled when they get back. It’s snugly placed in the first floor bathroom, next to the sink and shower stall. Hongjoong and Seonghwa lie on the floor beside it, their worn limbs stretched over the disgusting bathroom tiles.

“So, you either had sex or you assembled the washing machine when we were gone,” San looks at the two on the floor, both too tired to make a good comeback. Hongjoong weakly gives San the finger. “What if it’s both?” Mingi adds, which has Wooyoung make a gagging noise. “Gross.” 

.

.

.

A thirty minute nap and a clean change of clothes later, Seonghwa smacks both San and Mingi up the head. “No, we did not have sex. Yes, we put the washing machine together.” They’re all gathered in the bathroom, looking eagerly at the washing machine like it’s made of gold. It’s not actually made of gold, it’s made of metal and it looks milky white.

“Should we test it out, for testing reasons?” Wooyoung asks, practically bouncing on the spot. “For testing reasons,” Yeosang says solemnly, nodding his head.

They watch in anticipation as Hongjoong dumps their clothes in, and then the newly bought detergent that smells faintly like flowers. “Here we go,” Hongjoong whispers, pressing the ‘start’ button. The machine rumbles, startling all of them. They’ve never heard the sound of a washing machine before. There’s a glass panel on the machine, so they can all watch their clothes tumble around inside it. “Whoa,” Jongho mutters, mesmerized by the movements of the laundry. 

Nobody says anything for a while, letting the loud rumbling of the washing machine fill in the silence. “Can we take a picture?” Mingi speaks up. They all know it’s a ridiculous request. It’s a _washing machine_ for god’s sakes. But, Yeosang still mumbles a quiet _‘can we’._ He knows he sounds like a petulant child, but he wants a photo with the rest of them. He doesn't have one with all of them together. To his dismay, San hears him. “I’ll get the camera,” San smiles gently at Yeosang, moving to get the old timey camera they keep in the living room (the one that takes _thirty seconds_ to process a picture). 

San comes back with the camera, and he positions himself so he can both hold the camera and be in the picture at the same time. “Everybody get in!” Hongjoong calls out, shifting to strike a pose with Seonghwa by the washing machine. Wooyoung, ever the dramatic, flings himself on top of the washing machine, ignoring Seonghwa’s many warnings that he’s too heavy for it. Yunho jumps into Mingi’s arms like a damsel in distress, and they both make a sassy face at the camera. “Come sit here,” Jongho pats the empty space next to the washing machine, gesturing for Yeosang to sit with him. 

“Ready? Okay. 3, 2, 1, say cheese!”

“Bees!”

“What?” 

The photos blurry, with San accidentally turning his head while it was processing because he was trying to glare at Wooyoung, the culprit of the iconic _‘bees!’._ Yeosang likes it though, everything about the photo perfectly captures their spirit. Wooyoung's face is also blurry because he fell over laughing, Hongjoong looks confused, Seonghwa has his pained smile on, Yunho’s falling on the floor because Mingi couldn’t hold him up for that long, and Yeosang has a weak peace sign held up. It’s a _terrible_ photo.

San still sticks it on the fridge door with an obnoxiously large heart magnet the next day, uncaring to the fact that he’s barely even in it. When Yeosang sees it, he hides his smile in his mug of tea. 

/ 

“So,” Jongho starts during dinner four days later, mouth full of potato pancakes. “Deja vu,” Yunho whispers. Deja vu, indeed, Yeosang thinks. “I’m transferring to the music department,” Jongho announces once he’s done chewing his food.

Many gasps are heard. Mingi drops his glass (it doesn’t shatter, Wooyoung catches it before it can fall to the ground). "Why are you transferring now?" Hongjoong asks, not unkindly. “I wasn’t confident about it, but… uh Yeosang gave me some advice. He was right, music isn’t banana milk.” Jongho beams at Yeosang, who gives a small smile back.

“Am I the only one that didn’t understand a single word he said? What’s music have to do with banana milk?”

“Wooyoung, you’re ruining the moment.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeosang slowly getting more comfortable with the members?????? the only thing i want to write from now on ヾ(*´∀｀*)ﾉ

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are always appreciated!! :D


End file.
